Short Sale, Part 2: Ducks In A Row
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Sandra Tsing Loh puts a deposit down on her short sale.
So I've begun telling the story of my first and only short sale experience. For those who don't know, this is where the owners of a home fall behind on payments, the bank takes it over, and they throw the house on the market at fire sale prices.
At my realtor's suggestion, I put in a low ball offer – all I could afford was $150,000 below this one house's already fire sale price. In times of the apocalypse, it all seems like Monopoly money anyway.
And this Victorian in Northwest Pasadena – note, not the swank part of town – was not my dream house anyway. It was giant, I wanted a cozy hideaway in Bungalow Heaven. Let's face it, I wasn't exactly on pins and needles waiting to hear.
So the bank takes my $12,000 deposit without actually accepting my offer. They sit on it for two, three, four months. I actually forgot I was "in escrow."
When suddenly, in early September, my realtor Millie calls, and says, "They've accepted your offer." I rush over to her office. "They want to close quickly," she says, "October 18, which means–
"You'll need to get–" And here Millie's hands execute a karate chop, her fingers deftly slashing towards her immaculately kept Ford Tahoe. "Your ducks in a row. You'll need to get–" Fingers slash – "Your ducks in a row."
I have been pre-approved for a loan from Bank of America since June. Excuse me, my ducks are in a row. The two years of W-2's, the three months of bank statements for all the various accounts the down payment is coming from. Even my father's mystery bank account, co-signed by five Chinese relatives – though odd-looking, still legal. Pretty legal.
And, unlike other short sales you hear about – they all tend to be nightmares – this short sale proceeds flawlessly. The appraisal is great. Inspection is perfect. I think about buying furniture. For my incredibly big new house.
In fact, visiting my friend Henry, in New York – for barrel laughs, we trek down to Soho. In these lean times, high-end Manhattan furniture business is so bad Kenneth Cole-booted salesmen literally chase us down Prince Street.
Just in case you were curious, apparently antique Biedermayer imported from Sweden can be stained darker to match your woodgrain wainscoting exactly, and then, for a modest fee, this $4,000 armchair can be shipped to Pasadena. I didn't pull the trigger, as I was anticipating an already too-large-even-at-fire-sale-prices mortgage to pay, but if you're interested!
Ah! All there was left to do was wait for my short sale escrow to close. Smoothly. What could go wrong?
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